


The Strength that We Need

by LylaRivers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley celebrates Hanukkah, Crowley is Jewish, Fluff, M/M, and you can’t change my mind, good Omens is Jewish and so am i, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21950089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LylaRivers/pseuds/LylaRivers
Summary: They keep to themselves enough that come the twenty fifth of Kislev, Crowley conveniently forgets their new cohabitation status, and pulls out his hanukiah from its usual location, and puts it in the center of the room on the eagle lectern from the church.Aziraphale finds Crowley celebrating Hanukkah. Soft times are had by all.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 107
Collections: Good Omens is Jewish and so are we





	The Strength that We Need

**Author's Note:**

> *bangs pots and pans* Guess who’s back on their Jewish Good Omens Bullshit tm? 
> 
> This was an absolute bear to write- I rewrote it like three times. Shout-out to the Ace Omens Discord for cheering me on. As always, Jewish things that I take for granted but probably need explanation are in the notes at the end. Title is from ‘Light One Candle’, a beautiful Hanukkah song from my childhood by Peter Paul and Mary.

It would be like pulling teeth to admit it, but Crowley has a particular soft spot for Hanukkah, as a holiday. There’s something particularly endearing about a holiday celebrating triumph over tyranny. (He’s not projecting! He’s totally not projecting!) There’s the added bonus that Hanukkah usually gets lumped in with Christmas because it's the same time of year, which leads to no small amount of frustration and anger. 

Still, he quite likes this little Talmudic holiday with overall minor significance in the Jewish year. He has relatively fond memories of the Maccabean revolt against the Assryians, and all the chaos therein. It was barely even work to nudge the Assryian commander to order his troops to desecrate the Temple. The desecration was even enough that he could enter the Temple, for once! He was able to mark it down as an initial success for Hell without even trying. 

Not to mention, there was something delightful about Mattathias killing another Jew who was willing to sacrifice to an idol in his place. The conflict of Jew against Jew, the Maccabees all the while fighting the Assryian army… the chaos was fantastic. He always meant to check whether Mattathias had wound up in Heaven or Hell after that particular stunt: he was fighting a Holy battle, in the name of righteousness, but that doesn’t necessarily negate the fact that he killed another Jew when it’s frowned upon to even swear at another Jew. 

Admittedly, he didn’t look as good after the reconsecration, but then, there’s simply no way to predict angelic thwarting. The full might and attention of direct agents of the Almighty is hardly an insignificant factor in his ultimate defeat. 

He will never, ever say this out loud- or even think it in Beezabulb’s general vicinity- but he’s rather glad the Maccabees retook the Temple and rededicated it. The strong constantly crushing the weak has a rather depressing vibe to it. 

So the holiday is about the miraculous reconsecration of the Holy Temple, with the miracle of oil lasting for eight days when it should have lasted for one? So what? (He has his suspicions about the source of that particular miracle.)  _ He’s _ celebrating the triumph of the small over the mighty. 

Among his collection of historical treasures, he has an old, burnished silver hanukiah, one of the earliest ever made. Every year, hidden from the street view, he lights the candles, adding one additional candle for each night of the holiday. 

He certainly doesn’t bless the candles. He just… likes the concept of the underdogs coming out on top. Like the forces of Hell in the final battle. 

Who is he kidding? Every place he goes, he gravitates towards the synagogues and shuls, the shtetls and ghettos. There’s something about these people that calls to him. 

They ask questions. They question anything and everything, and write down the results of their arguments. It’s lucrative beyond belief for an angel who Fell for asking questions. 

Besides, after being around for longer than any other monotheistic religion, despite multiple attempts to destroy them, he figures they’ve gotta have something going for them. 

So in other words, every year, Crowley pulls out his near original hanukkiah, and lights candles starting every twenty fifth of Kislev. 

***

After the Appoco-nope, Crowley essentially moves in with Aziraphale. Using a not so minor miracle, they create a spatial link between the bookshop and Crowley’s flat, setting the entrance to the flat in an unused room in the bookshop’s upper level. 

It’s a neat little trick, if he does say so himself. The flat remains spatially in the same location in Mayfair, but he can still pop over to check on Aziraphale any time he wants. Which is a lot. He’s not quite willing to let the angel be out of sight for too long, particularly after the bookshop’s untimely (if brief) demise. 

Still, he has his own space and doesn’t crowd the angel with abrupt change all at once. Even though they’ve begun pursuing a more romantic bent to their relationship, Crowley has never forgotten that day in nineteen sixty seven in the Bentley. Every so often, “You go too fast for me, Crowley,” will ring in his ears. No matter how much Aziraphale appears to have sped up, the fear is always there. For G-... Sat… for  _ Someone’s _ sake, the angel hasn’t updated his wardrobe in over a hundred years! He wears more layers than an onion, which hasn’t been the fashion in decades! 

He keeps in his flat, except for when he wants to bother Aziraphle  check that Aziraphale is still around . Some nights, Aziraphale pops over to his place, where they spend evenings navigating their new and improved Arrangement. 

But they keep to themselves  _ enough _ that come the twenty fifth of Kislev, Crowley conveniently forgets their new cohabitation status, and pulls out his hanukiah from its usual location, and puts it in the center of the room on the eagle lectern from the church. (There’s a bit of a thrill, too, in mildly desecrating this symbol of renewed holiness with goyishe paraphernalia on a holiday literally about reconsecrating desecrated things. Never let it be said that he’s not a demon.) 

Still, it’s a shock when he hears Aziraphale’s voice cooing over the hanukkiah in the main room one afternoon, three days into the holiday. “My goodness, you look positively ancient. Where did you come from, hmm?” he hears. 

Crowley kicks himself mentally as he enters the room.  _ Fuck _ . The angel has a tendency to get all mushy over religious ritual items. 

“Crowley, how long have you had this delightful hanukkiah?” Aziraphale asks. “It looks old. Have you always had it, or did you acquire it recently?”

“Had it for a while,” Crowley says vaguely. 

“It looks as though it’s been used recently.”

“Is that a question somewhere in there, angel?” Crowley growls. “Ssspit it out.”

“Oh, very well. Crowley, are you celebrating the Festival of Lights?” Aziraphale asks. 

“Mmmaybe,” Crowley says, drawing out the ‘m’. 

“Oh, my dear. Why didn’t you say something?” Aziraphale asks, taking the demon’s unresisting hand. “I would have been more than happy to celebrate with you.”

“I don’t celebrate it, I just…” Crowley starts to say. 

“Observe it?” Aziraphale supplies at his hesitation. “Recognize it? Enjoy it?”

“Shaddup,” Crowley growls without any real bite to it. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t mean to tease,” Aziraphale says, pulling Crowley fully into the circle of his arms. Crowley lets himself be pulled, and leans his forehead against the angel’s. “It’s rather sweet, actually.”

“‘M not sweet,” Crowley hisses. 

Aziraphale takes hold of Crowley’s chin. “It’s not a four letter word, so you can’t object on principle alone,” he says. 

“Watch me,” Crowley argues. 

Aziraphale brings their faces the last few centimeters together in a soft kiss. “Go ahead, my dear. Object. See how far that gets you,” he murmurs. 

Crowley lets his eyes flutter shut at the kiss, and leans into the angel’s solidly warm and soft body. “I’m protesting,” he says, argumentative edge completely absent from his voice. “I’m wiling. Tempting an angel. Very evil. Can’t be sweet.” The two of them melt more firmly into each other. 

“Your actions rather belie you words,” Aziraphale says when they pull apart. “My sweet, generous, adoring demon.”

“I’m terrifying. Evil. Mean.”

“Gentle. Pleasant. Charming.”

“Angel,” Crowley groans. 

“We’ll work on it,” Aziraphale promises. 

Crowley glares. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t pull out of the angel’s embrace. 

“Would you mind if I joined you for the candle lighting, tonight?” Aziraphale asks. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, of course, but if you’re willing…”

Crowley’s innards do an odd little flip, in about the area a human stomach sits. “I… er… uh…. sure,” he says smoothly. 

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Aziraphale says, bouncing slightly on his heels. “It’s been an age since I’ve properly celebrated the Rededication!”

“You mean, your own miracle, making the oil last,” Crowley says, guiding the two of them towards his couch. “Just like you to inspire a food based holiday.”

“Mmh,” Aziraphale agrees. “I didn't exactly  _ know _ that they would make such delicious food over a little thing like long lasting oil! I just wanted a little morale booster, after finding such a wreck in the Temple itself. Can you imagine, the desecration? The horror of finding such a holy space defiled by the unclean?”

Crowley arches an eyebrow. “Angel, I tempted those bastards into the desecration in the first place.”

“You didn’t!” Aziraphale gasps, clutching his hand to his chest. 

“Demon.”

“You vile tempter, you,” Aziraphale says, voice fond. 

“Honestly, it wasn’t a hard temptation, even,” Crowley says, stretching out to put his head in the angel’s lap. “All I did was suggest the Jews were a little touchy about getting pork in their holy spaces, and bam! Defilement of the holy altar.”

Aziraphale runs his hands through Crowley’s hair. “What is an angel of the Lord to do with such a foul fiend?” 

“Kiss the Hell out of me?” 

“I’d best engage in some good old fashioned thwarting,” Aziraphale says. He bends over to give Crowley a lengthy kiss. Crowley threads his hands though the angel’s curls, pulling them closer together. “Do you feel thwarted?” Aziraphale asks, pulling away. 

“I’m entirely too wiley for a single kiss to thwart me,” Crowley says. 

Aziraphale flicks him on the nose. “I have some things that need to be accomplished before tonight, you wiley serpent.”

“So you’ll thwart me later tonight?” Crowley asks hopefully. 

The angel lifts him up, and deposits him on the couch alone. “I suppose I’ll have to,” he says. “But for now, I have a few other things to be attended to.”

***

The angel returns a few hours later, just before sunset, with two large bags. Crowley opens his mouth to better scent the air, and gets a whiff of fried goods. “Whatcha got there, angel?” he asks. 

“Well, I wanted to celebrate properly,” Aziraphale says. 

“So you got food. Predictable, angel,” Crowley says. 

“It’s the done thing,” Aziraphale sniffs.

“They tried to kill us,we’re still alive, let’s eat,” Crowley says brightly. “So, in that spirit, what are we eating?”

Aziraphale sets the bag down on the coffee table. “I found the most delightful little deli just a few blocks from here, and they had the most delectable Hanukkah special, with latkes and sufganiyot and brisket, and I simply couldn’t help myself.”

“As though that wasn’t what you went looking for when you left.”

“Well, yes, but I may have gone a bit… ah… overboard?” Aziraphale says. 

Crowley cocks an eyebrow, and opens the first bag, which contains a large foil box entirely comprised of latkes. The box underneath it is cardboard, so Crowley doesn’t have to open it to know that it’s probably stuffed with sufganiyot. “You do know there’s only the two of us, right, angel?” Crowley asks. 

“I probably could have just gotten two or three doughnuts, but they had so many different choices and I just couldn’t narrow it down!” Aziraphale dithers. 

Crowley chuckles. “Never change, angel.” 

They set the food out on a table, spreading the tin foil boxes out by food type. Crowley produces a few different wines, which he sets on the table as well. 

“Three, my dear?” Aziraphale asks. “I wasn’t planning on getting drunk tonight.”

“But no holiday is complete without a demonstration of joy,” Crowley protests. Aziraphale fixes him with a  _ look _ . “I just wanted your opinion on tonight’s vintage, angel. I’ll put the other two back.”

Aziraphale makes his selection, and Crowley returns the other two to the rack. “At least you didn’t bring any Manischewitz,” the angel mutters. 

“I’m a demon, not a heathen,” Crowley retorts. Aziraphale presses a quick apology kiss to his cheek. 

Food preparations made, the angel and demon move to the brightly burnished hanukkiah. Crowley flicks his thumb, and a ball of fire appears between his fingers, which he uses to light the shamash. “Do you mind if I say the blessings?” Aziraphale asks. “I know you said you don’t, but…”

“Go ahead,” Crowley says. 

Baruch atah, Hashem Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah,” Aziraphale recites. Crowley spares a moment to be surprised at Aziraphale’s substitution of the Name for the actual Name of G-d. “Baruch atah, Hashem Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim haheim baz’man hazeh.” 

Crowley lights the candles from left to right, starting with the newest candle, and sets the shamash back in its holder. “I appreciate you not turning this into Holy Fire.”

“I quite like you in one piece, my dear,” Aziraphale says. He wraps one warm arm around Crowley’s waist, and Crowley leans into the embrace like it’s his only lifeline. 

“If you try to bless the wine, I am out of here,” Croowley says, as they drift towards the table. “Even a low grade blessing. I’ve seen first hand what Holy Water does to demons, I’m not drinking Holy Wine.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dearest,” Aziraphale says. They sit next to each other at the table, and pour out the wine. Aziraphale loads a plate of food, and Crowley steals bits and pieces from him, deigning to eat a whole latke. Behind them, the candles illuminate the room with a soft glow. 

After all, the holiday is best spent together. 

****

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and Translations  
> Hanukkah is a relatively minor holiday! It’s origin comes from the Talmud, transcripts of rabbinic debate, rather than the Torah (the five books of Moses and the direct word of G-d). It literally translates as “rededication”.  
> There’s a textual distinction between a temple and The Temple (which is always capitalized). The Temple refers to one of the two historical Temples in Jerusalem that existed in ancient times where ritual sacrifices were made. Temples with a lowercase “t” are relatively recent innovations as a place of worship, with the Diaspora (scattering) after the destruction of the Second Temple.  
> Jews are forbidden from cursing other Jews. That’s why Yiddish has such creative curses. My personal favorite is “may you be like a chandelier: hang by day and burn by night”.  
> Hanukkiah- the proper term for a “menorah”. “Menorah” actually means lamp or light, and refers to any lamp, particularly the 7 branched one on the crest of the State of Israel. A hanukkiah is specifically the nine branched menorah used for Hanukkah.  
> Synagogue = shul. Synagogue is English (or may be referred to as a temple), Shul is Yiddish. (Hebrew is Beit K’nesset, if you’re wondering).  
> Shtetl = ghetto. Before it was a derogatory term and had connotations of death camps (like the Warsaw ghetto), the ghetto was actually a place of relative safety for Jews. Only Jews lived there and there were walls around the community, so they were less likely to get mobbed in the streets.  
> When does Hanukkah start? Twenty fifth of Kislev, just like always! Kislev is the third month of the Hebrew calendar.  
> In Judaism, wine is a symbol of joy. That’s why we drink it for pretty much every holiday. (Except the fasts, obviously.)  
> Shamash = helper candle. On Hanukkah, you use the shamash to light each of the other candles, starting from the left- most candle (the newest), and going to the right- most candle (the oldest). Shamash comes from the same root as “shemesh”, the word for sun.  
> Blessing Translations:  
> Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who hallows us with mitzvot, commanding us to kindle the Hanukkah lights.  
> Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who performed wonderous deeds for our ancestors in days of old at this season.  
> Most prayers use the word Adonai, which is the closest we have to G-d’s Name. The word Aziraphale substitutes, Hashem, means the Name, and is the word religious Jews use when not in prayer, so they don’t take G-d’s Name in vain.  
> Traditional foods mentioned: brisket is a method of cooking beef. Latkes are potato pancakes. Sufganyiot are jelly filled doughnuts. Sufganyiot and latkes are traditional for Hanukkah, because they’re fried in oil, like the oil of the miracles. Brisket is just a Jewish holiday staple.


End file.
